TEMORA : AN EPIC POEM. BOOK VI. CATHMOR rises on his hill! Shall Fingal take the sword of Luno? But what shall become of thy fame, son of white-bosomed Clatho? Turn I I have, in a preceding note, observed, that the abrupt manner of Ossian partakes much of the nature of the drama. The opening of this book is a confirmation of the justness of this observation. Instead of a long detail of circumstances delivered by the poet himself, about the descent of Cathmor from the hill, whereon he sat to behold the battle, he puts the narration in the mouth of Fingal. The relation acquires importance from the character of the speaker. The concern which Fingal shews, when he beholds the rising of Cathmor, raises our ideas of the valour of that hero to the highest pitch. The apostrophes which are crowded on one another, are expressive of the per not thine eyes from Fingal, fair daughter of Inisstore. I shall not quench thy early beam. It shines along my soul. Rise, wood-skirted Mora, rise between the war and me! Why should Fin turbation of Fingal's soul, and of his fear for his son, who was not a match for the king of Ireland. The conduct of the poet, in removing Fingal from the sight of the engagement, is very judicious; for the king might be induced, from seeing the inequality of the combat between Fillan and Cathmor, to come to battle himself, and so bring about the catastrophe of the poem prematurely. The removal of Fingal affords room to the poet for introducing those affecting scenes which immediately succeed, and are among the chief beauties of the poem. They who can deny art to Ossian, in conducting the catastrophe of Temora, are certainly more prejudiced against the age he lived in, than is consistent with good sense. MACPHERSON, 1st edition. In these notes of self-commendatory criticism, an obvious question is purposely overlooked; Whether the death of Fillan, in consequence of the removal of Fingal from the sight of the engagement, was an historical fact recorded by Ossian, or a mere epic artifice, employed to retard the catastrophe of the poem. In the epic poem of Fingal, the removal of that hero from the field, that his return might be the more magnificent, was a clumsy contrivance; but nothing can exceed the sentimental absurdity of the present expedient, to remove Fingal from the very sight of the engagement. The apostrophe to Clatho, in the hall of Selma, which the poet, or the son of Alpin, in the preceding book, delivers in person, is resumed by Fingal, who desires her not to turn her eyes from him; promises not to quench her early beam, and retires behind Mora, that he might have no opportunity, or temptation, to interpose for gal behold the strife, lest his dark-daired warrior should fall! Amid the song, O Carril, pour the sound of the trembling harp! Here are the voices of rocks! and there the bright tumbling of waters. Father of Oscar, lift the spear! Defend the young in arms. Conceal thy steps from Fillan. He must not know that I doubt his steel. No cloud of mine shall rise, my son, upon thy soul of fire!" He sunk behind his rock, amid the sound of Carril's song. Brightening, in my growing soul, I took the spear of Temora. I saw, along Moilena, the wild tumbling of battle; the strife of death, in gleaming rows, disjoined and broken round. Fillan is a beam of fire. From wing to wing is his wasteful course. The ridges of war melt before him. They are rolled, in smoke, from the fields ! Now is the coming forth of Cathmor, in the armour of kings! Dark waves the eagle's wing, above his helmet of fire. Unconcerned are his the preservation of her son. "Struggling," according to Blair, "between concern for the fame, and fear for the safety, of his son," he leaves both to their fate, rather than accelerate the catastrophe of the poem. 5 steps, as if they were to the chace of Erin. He raises, at times, his terrible voice. Erin, abashed, gathers round. Their souls return back like a stream. They wonder at the steps of their fear. He rose, like the beam of the morning, on a haunted heath: the traveller looks back, with bending eye, on the field of dreadful forms"! Sudden, from the rock of Moi-lena, are Sul-malla's trembling steps. An oak takes the spear from her hand. Half-bent she looses the lance 3. But then are her eyes on the king, from amid her wandering locks! No friendly strife is before thee! No light contending of bows, as when Like the beam of the morning on a haunted heath; the traveller looks back, with bending eye, on the field of dreadful forms.] MASON's Elfrida. Supra, ii. 28. Wont the bewildered traveller to daunt, Whose vagrant feet have traced your secret haunt. Shrink at ambrosial morning's living ray. 3 An oak took the spear from her hand. the lance.] An incident from VIRGIL. manu convellere ferrum. Eneid, xii. 774. Half-bent she looses Deep in the root, whether by fate or chance, DRYDEN. the youth of Inis-huna come forth beneath the eye of Conmor! As the rock of Runo, which takes the passing clouds as they fly, seems growing, in gathered darkness, over the streamy heath; so seems the chief of Atha taller, as gather his people around*. As different blasts fly over the sea, each behind its dark-blue wave; so Cathmor's words, on every side, pour his warriors forth. Nor silent on his hill is Fillan. He mixes his words with his echoing shield. An eagle he seemed, with sounding wings, calling the wind to his rock, 4 As the rock of Runo, which takes the passing clouds as they fly, seems growing in gathered darkness over the streamy heath; so seems the chief of Atha taller as gather his people around.] From WILKIE's Epigoniad, 1. iii. A complete imitation. Taller he seemed, as when the morning, spread With golden lustre, crowns some mountain's head In cloudy volumes settling as they rise, His stature broad displayed, and higher reared. The subordinate imagery of two preceding similes: "Tall as an oak, now clothed on high in mist." iii. 21. "Like two rocks seen in the desert above low-sailing mist." v. 5. seems to be derived from the same source. |